Marisa 'eM' Louw

And so, we have come to the end of yet another year. For me, 40 winters have come and gone, of which 17 I shared with a wonderful man.  But this time of the year, I often reflect on the 23 winters I have shared with my birth family.   The days between Christmas and New Year were always spent at my maternal grandparents' home on 12th Avenue, Edenvale. My grandmother was the eldest of 12 children, and the house and garden were filled with people of all ages. Aunts, uncles, cousins - we all celebrated together.  Ouma Non, as she was fondly known, must have been the glue that kept the family together because everything changed when she passed away 12 winters ago. But today, I do not wish to write about change.  I want to share beautiful memories.  Memories which make my life worth living. I remember colouring with my aunt.  She was only 14 years old when I was born, and I treasure countless afternoons of colouring with her.  She taught me how to colour bet...

After two and a half years, I have settled into the routine of caring for my liver shunt Pekingese.  At 7 o’clock, I prepare his meals for the day: I cook and mash sweet potatoes, boil and mash an egg, grated carrots, beetroot, celery as well as broccoli and then carefully measure three teaspoons of each into three bowls that go into the fridge, ready for meal times at 8 o’clock, 12 noon and 5 o’clock.  But that is not where it ends; caring for a liver-shunt dog must be like watching for a disabled person.  This is the story of my life and that of Pikku-Karhu, the Pekingese. I have always been an animal lover, and my first memories are of rescuing, caring for and rehabilitating small birds caught by the household cat.  My safe place as a child was inside the aviary I helped my father build.  It was only natural that our home had to have a dog when I got married eighteen years ago.  Soon our family grew, and one dog became four.  Four years ago, I becam...

The fairground holds a strange attraction to children and adults alike.  Is it the lights?  Or perhaps the exhilarating shrieks of fellow fair-goers?  I think it is the invigorating experience felt by each individual.   Yesterday I lived through a rather energising experience similar to attending a fairground.  I commuted on the Gautrain for the first time since it launched in 2011.   Walking from the parking area to the entrance of the Sandton station with my husband, I felt like a little girl again.  Suddenly I had two golden locks hanging on each side of my head, holding his hand in admiration.  I looked at him as I jogged to keep up with his strides.  I was proud to have him by my side and felt safe because I knew he always knew best and what to do next.   Clutching my bag underneath my arm, I walked through the turnstile after swiping the access card, holding my breath as I could see how those glass sliding doors would cut me in hal...